


We Used To Run So Well Together

by JellyDishes



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotional Constipation, M/M, Roleswap, in which i give the gays everything they want, intended to be a one-shot but i immediately have both ideas and regrets, which here you can take to mean 'sadness'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JellyDishes/pseuds/JellyDishes
Summary: Tamlen is not adjusting well to his new life as a warden, or Mahariel's death. No matter where he turns, he is reminded of his loss.
Relationships: Male Mahariel/Tamlen, Tamlen/Alistair Theirin, Tamlen/Male Warden
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	We Used To Run So Well Together

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance if it takes me some time to reply to comments. I love and appreciate them, but I have very intense social anxiety and responding can be difficult. Thank you for your patience!

Tamlen had been glaring out at the darkness beyond the border of the campsite for long enough that Wynne was beginning to shift from second-hand restlessness. Finally she asked him what was on his mind in what she considered to be a neutral tone, but that he reacted to with a jerking shake of his head. 

The tattoos on Tamlen’s lip twisted as he stared down at the tangle of his hands. “Do you humans know what it is like to love someone so completely, knowing that if things had been different…” he said he spread his palms wide, almost beseechingly, “you would have been together until time stopped?”

Wynne started to open her mouth when he got up to pace, but Tamlen made a noise between his teeth that made her go silent. “He was my friend, my…” Tamlen stopped and put his hand in front of his face, fingers curling into a fist. “He was mine,” he said in a slow, measured tone that was sharp as the knife he always kept at his hip, “and now he is gone. What saved me should’ve saved him, too. Can you fix that, Wynne? Do you have a platitude or a story that will bring Mahariel back to me, because believe me, I am all ears.”

“You are not the only one who has experienced pain,” she told him, speaking into a silence that still hung heavy with his words. “That is why you are doing this, isn’t it? To ensure that your loss isn’t repeated again and again across our land?”

“No!” He snapped, whirling on her. “That’s what  _ he _ would’ve done. But I’m not him, am I? My own stupidity stole him away, and all we’re left with now is me. Me and my anger and my grief and my need to  _ ensure _ that every darkspawn standing between me and the archdemon dies screaming. And if that’s not good enough for you, well, it isn’t for me either. But we all have to make due, don’t we?” Tamlen hadn’t realized -hadn’t cared- how loud he’d gotten until he caught sight of Alistair’s expression over Wynne’s shoulder. And for a moment, he didn’t care about that either. He  _ wanted _ Alistair to be hurt at the reminder of what his precious wardens had done to him, of what they hadn’t done to Mahariel. At least then he wouldn’t be hurting alone.

Then the moment ended, and all of the anger drained out of him until he felt as dry and empty and liable to break as an insect husk. He sagged. Looked at the downturn of Alistair’s mouth and the hunched curve of wide shoulders, and all he felt was shame. “Forget it,” he muttered, lifting a hand in a half completed gesture. “It's just nonsense. Not worth the air it took to say it.” 

He turned on his heel and strode away as fast as his feet would carry him. If he spent one more second looking at the expression of… understanding on Alistair’s face where almost anyone else would have been angry, he was going to-

“Tamlen?”

_ Shit. _

Hurrying footsteps, and the jingle of mail armor. He knew without looking that Alistair would be reaching for him with that same expression that made Tamlen want to retreat and to lash out all at once. Now that no one was looking at him, Tamlen let his own face twist with the sort of pain that made him feel raw, exposed, so that even kindness was too much. Was overwhelming. He stopped walking, and stood rigidly in place. “Leave it, Alistair. That was my subtle way of saying that I want the subject dropped.”

“You can’t just-” Alistair audibly swallowed. “You can’t just hide anytime someone wants to help you,” he said quietly. 

“I don’t want  _ someone _ ,” Tamlen started to say, but the words died in his throat before could finish.  _ ‘Someone’ _ felt entirely different from _ ‘Alistair.’ _ And he did truly want Alistair’s help, he just didn’t know how to say that in a way that didn’t come laden with barbs.

He tensed even more at the hopeful note in the question, “Who do you want?” 

All he knew to say was wrong. He knew it was, but it came out anyway. “Mahariel.”

He was answered with silence. When he could finally bear to turn around, Alistair and Wynne were gone, and he was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Links to resources for those struggling with the loss of a loved one: http://www.mygriefangels.org/grief-support-directory-.html
> 
> Text based crisis hotline: 741-741


End file.
